


the space between breathing

by ignitesthestars



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-07
Updated: 2016-09-07
Packaged: 2018-08-13 18:57:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7982569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ignitesthestars/pseuds/ignitesthestars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s later, and her hair is all poetry spread across the pillow. His fingers and his mind get that familiar itch, but he stays where he is, tracing the lines of her with his gaze instead.</p><p>Prompt: things you said when you thought I was asleep</p>
            </blockquote>





	the space between breathing

They’re in another motel. He’d given his name as Mr Smith, and gotten a good-natured eye roll and a thumbs up from the receptionist that made him want to break the man’s teeth.

Nat gives him her own eyeroll when he just about rips the door off to their room. “Settle, Mr Smith.” She reaches past him to pluck something from the doorknob, and the fruity scent of her shampoo wafts past him. “It’s a good cover.”

She’s not wrong, but that doesn’t mean he wants to punch the guy any less. “He’s still an ass,” he mutters.

She stands on her tiptoes, grazes his cheek with a kiss. “You can defend my honour next mission. Promise.”

He snorts, catches her around the waist as she rocks back down to her feet, kisses her properly. And Natasha is one of the hardest, toughest women he knows, but she’s soft against him now. She allows him to have this part of her, and he treasures every stolen second.

Her mouth curves against his, silent laughter. He drinks her in, and then she’s gone, sitting on the edge of the bed with a bounce. “Come on, Captain Chivalry. There’s work to be done.”

There is, and they do it. Sharing intel, planning missions, cover stories, future meet-ups. Steve asks after the others, the ones who didn’t come with him, because they’re still his people; he tells her about the ones who did, because they never stopped being hers. It’s almost like old times, except for the part where they’re in a dingy motel room instead of a state of the art facility, and Steve can look at her openly now instead of glancing side-long out of the corner of his eye.

Another smile traces her lips when they’re done, and she leans slowly back on the bed. “Mr Smith,” she drawls. “You’re making me blush.”

“Just throwing this out there - pretending I’m a john? Not a huge turn on, Nat.”

“What kind of symbol for America are you?” she huffs, and pulls him down after her.

It’s later, and her hair is all poetry spread across the pillow. His fingers and his mind get that familiar itch, but he stays where he is, tracing the lines of her with his gaze instead. She doesn’t sleep enough. The fact that she sleeps at all around him is a minor miracle; he’s not about to interrupt that because he wants to keep this part of her on paper as well as in his head.

“You deserve more than this,” he murmurs, thinks of dancing and drinks with friends and a mattress that doesn’t threaten to collapse under his weight. “I wish I could give you more.”

It’s the sort of sentiment she’d laugh at. She’s a spy, after all, and he’s a super soldier. Their lives were never going to be any of that. The fact that they exist together at all is a minor miracle in and of itself.

A sigh parts her lips, and her leg slings over his. It’s not a come on; more like comfort, the warmth of her pressed against him. Her voice is thick with sleep as she whispers back.

“The things I deserve don’t bear thinking about most of the time.” Her hand cups his jaw, forehead pressing into the crook of his neck. “I’m more interested in the things that I want, these days.”


End file.
